Beaker for a Microphone
by hes-beauty-hes-jason-grace
Summary: Carlos is the radio host of a small desert town when a strange scientist comes into town. Role reversal au.


**My amazing bf actually did a podfic for this! So if you're interested, it's over on ao3.**

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"You know what they say. I don't have to remind you- you know. Forgetting would have major consequences.

Welcome to Nightvale.

Hello, listeners! Oh, please excuse my enthusiasm. It's just- I've always wanted to be a radio host! I've always been told that I have a face for radio, what with my square jaw, dignified greying hair, and teeth like a military cemetery. These are the features that radio requires.

At least, I think I have. I don't remember who I am, how I got here, or what I did before this. But that's just life, you know? Of course, I could just go to City Hall. As we're well aware, all of our words and actions are recorded on the walls, ceilings, and floors.

Everyone knows about that horrible mistake you made, and we're all judging you for it! It's not just paranoia, it's the truth!

But-

Oh listeners, this _is _embarrassing.

I'm afraid to find out.

It's like the old adage: 'The only thing to fear is fear itself. That, and invisible spiders.'

A new man came into town today. Who is he? What does he want from us? Why his beautiful hair- bleached white blond by the desert sun? Why his sombre, oaky voice? He says he is a scientist. Well…we have all been scientists at one point or another in our lives. I especially consider myself a scientist, of sorts. But why now? Why here? And just what does he plan to do with all those breakers and humming electrical instruments in that lab he's renting – the one next to Big Rico's Pizza?

No one does a slice like Big Rico.** No one.**

That new scientist – we now know is named Cecil – called a town meeting. His tattoos writhe across his arms and neck, which seems odd, but he doesn't appear to mind.

He says Nightvale is the most scientifically average town he's ever come across. He smiled and it was kind... But sinister.

Now listeners, I'm not one to disagree with a _scientist... _But Nightvale is terrible. Nightvale is dangerous. Nightvale is beautiful. Our town is many things, but it is _not_ a normal town.

I've read books. Before the Time of Knives, I studied places that don't even exist. Like Mitchigan. And our town is unlike any other.

A commercial airliner flying through local airspace disappeared today, only to reappear in the Night Vale Elementary gymnasium during basketball practice, disrupting practice quite badly. The jet roared through the small gym for only a fraction of a second. And before it could strike any players or structure, it vanished again. This time, apparently, for good.

Listeners, I'm afraid I feel... Strange.

I have this feeling. Th-that things are supposed to be different. That I'm not supposed to be here, speaking to you, doing this job that I've supposedly always wanted to do. Why I know that Nightvale is a strange, strange town, in the same instinctual way that I know that umbrellas were not meant to exist and are tools used by the society of lost pets on the moon in terrifying, unknown ways. And I also, somehow, know that this isn't the way umbrellas are supposed to be.

I feel... Drawn to this scientist, as if in some alternate universe, our lives are interconnected.

Listeners, I think I need to go to City Hall. I'm afraid of finding out what is written there but... I'm more afraid of not knowing.

Nightvale, I'm going to City Hall. I am going to read my records and I am going to, hopefully, find answers. And you, ladies, gentlemen, and ancient beings hovering above all of our beds, are going to the weather.

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I am...confused.

According to my records, our town scientist is not a scientist. And I am not a radio host from Nighvale. And while I can't remember anything, I feel as if this should not be. And yet, I also feel as if this is how it _should _be.

I am a visiting scientist, not from Nightvale, but a town called...Ven- Venezuela? Wherever that is.

Cecil, our scientist, is _the Radio Host. _And instead of a grounded dog in the women's bathroom, there's apparently a floating cat here in the station bathroom.

Listeners, life is often confusing and dangerous, but listen- no life is perfect. It becomes perfect when we learn to appreciate life for what it is.

And as always, goodnight, Nightvale. Goodnight."

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**So after years of trying to come up with a Nightvale fic, this came to me when I was trying to sleep. **

**Also I have no idea what to call this so I had an idea. I'll leave it up to reviewers if you have any ideas? Of course I'll credit you. **

**Anyways! Please leave any criticisms below, thanks sm for getting this far!**


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